Unfaithful

The wind blows the leaves down the road in a coordinated dance.
The house on the corner is dark and solemn.
It cries out, wanting life, wanting activity, wanting a family.

The scene on the porch was so many years ago.
A tragic and romantic scene.
A young man holding a velvet box, shaking, scared yet excited.
The woman, older then him, stands inside the door, shielded by the screen.

She wants to hide from him, keep him from the secret.
He wants to see her, hold her, and love her. The box is just a token of his love for her.
Their voices rise, louder and louder, arguing about a simple action.

“Open the door and let me in.” He says forcefully.

“I can’t.” She whispers the words.

He glances down and notices what she is hiding.
He drops the box and runs, unable to handle the emotions running through his body.

The sparkling ring drops out of the box.
It is small and cheap and worthless, compared to the stunning diamond she has on her finger already.
It is one she has had for years.